The Crossover That Should Never, Ever Happen
by Artemis-chan of Redwing
Summary: [2007G1]One Autobot gets temporarily waylaid on his journey to Earth, instead spending time on a certain ring planet, stuck between highly incompetent armies.
1. Arrival

**Author's Note:** Okay, this plot bunny hit me a while back, and I apologize profusely for it. I blame my fandoms for sleeping around on me. Dedicated in part to my Speechie-love, because she's such an amazing writer for both of these series.

**Disclaimer:** If I honestly owned these things, do you think I'd be a broke college kid studying to be an elementary teacher? Yeah, I thought not.

**The Crossover That Should Never, Ever Happen  
**

* * *

The Warthog had been practically destroyed by the Blues' tank, and, as such, Sarge had promptly got on the horn with Vic to get a replacement.

"No can do, Sarge," the annoying communications officer replied. Sarge grunted in shock.

"Whaddaya mean, Vic?" he asked in his rough voice. "Ya got us this one easy enough. What's gonna be so tough about a replacement?"

"Weeeeeeell," Vic replied, stretching out syllables that had no business being stretched, "it'll take a bit of tricky finagling to get everything lookin' like I never sent you the first one in the first place, but...," and here he paused, sounding as if he were really having trouble with this decision, "I'll see what we can get ya, Sarge."

Sarge sighed in relief. He couldn't very well let the Blues keep their advantage, could he? "We'll be waiting for it, Vic." With that, he cut the communication and turned to his troops. "Well, ladies, Vic's puttin' in fer a new Warthog fer us." The reactions to this news were as he'd expected them to be. Donut giggled and let out a little whoop, Grif sigh, Simmons nodded, and Lopez stood silently by the wrecked pieces of the old vehicle. "Let's try not to destroy this one so quickly," Sarge continued with a pointed stare at Grif.

The orange-armored soldier sighed again. "I'd just like to point out that it was Simmons' fault-"

"It was not! You're the one who had the great idea to try and find a path that didn't exist!" interrupted the maroon-clad private, turning on his friend. Sarge sighed and tuned them out, the argument a familiar one, and turned back into his base to await their new vehicle.

-----

The transport ship caught his sensors, and even more interesting than the big, hulking flight vehicle (a crass and lumbering way of moving around, he thought) was the smaller, much more mobile ground vehicle inside of it. Checking his fuel reserves, he decided to follow this transport ship to its destination, then scan the smaller vehicle inside for some reconnaissance.

-----

The delivery was made, for once, in the dead of night, and Grif, who was supposed to be on duty, was, of course, fast asleep atop Red Base when the drop was made. As such, he completely missed the meteor falling into the canyon behind the base in addition to the sudden arrival of a brand new M12-LRV.

Still unobserved, a large form climbed out of the crater caused by the meteor and made its way over to the shiny new jeep. Within seconds the form was gone, replaced with an identical jeep to the one dropped from the ship. The two vehicles sat next to each other, awaiting the morning.


	2. First Contact

**Author's Note:** Gah! Disturbingly short, but it needed posted. And yes, there will be more, I promise. I just don't know when.

* * *

Donut was the first to notice them. His early morning routine of strolling around outside of the base clad only in his boxers suddenly stopped when he caught sight of the vehicles. Without warning he ran back into the base, yelling for Sarge.

"Sarge! Sarge, they're here! The new jeeps!" he shouted as he burst into the kitchen, spotting Sarge at the table.

"Donut, what in tarnation is goin' on here?" the gruff-voiced officer demanded. "Whaddaya mean, jeeps? We're only supposed to be gettin' one of those." The only reply he received was his youngest (and most excitable) private pulling him out the front of the base, where he promptly stood and stared in shock at the two brand-new M12-LRVs in front of him.

"I told ya, Sarge. Jeeps!" Donut giggled for a moment. "Oh! I'll go get Grif and Simmons, see what they think!" In another moment the young man was off and running again.

_'I have _got_ to figure out what makes that kid so hyper,'_ Sarge thought, watching him run off. Shaking his head, he turned back to the jeeps. "Well now. Let's see what Lopez's got ta fix on yeh before ye're in operatin' condition." Sarge couldn't be sure it wasn't a trick of the early-morning light, but he thought he saw one of the new jeeps twitch a bit.

------

Hound was beginning to have second thoughts about landing on this ring. His current alt mode was well suited to the dry, sparse terrain, and his tires were practically itching for the chance to just _drive_. When the strange organic bipedal who appeared to be in charge of the unit appeared with a similarly-sized mechanoid bipedal, however, and seemed to be telling it to examine Hound and the other, non-sentient vehicle, well...that's when Hound seriously started considering running. Especially when the brown one started approaching him with a wrench in hand.

_'Frag this,'_ thought the tracker, and without any warning he started his engine and sped off into the canyon, leaving the two armored humanoids staring after him, dumbfounded. Hound's sharp audios picked up the soft comment, even as he left them quickly behind.

"Lopez, if anyone asks, Donut ate too much sugar and had double-vision. We never had two jeeps."


	3. Second Contact

**Author's Note:** So, one day, while I was incredibly bored in my Math for Early Childhood Educators class, I started writing down some ideas for this sucker. Please note that, from here on out, there will be a **flagrant disregard of canon** (I even have it written like that in my notebook). Mostly because I really want to bring Junior into this, and, well, I haven't seen the end of RvB and I've had it all set in what could be seen as season 1 so far. So just...yeah. Forgive me?

* * *

Hound flew across the sparsely-vegetated canyon, enjoying the feel of the wind. _These strange organics,_ he thought with a mental shake of his head. He was rapidly approaching the other side of the canyon - _A box canyon? Really?_ - where was situated an identical structure as the one he had just left in a rather a hurry. There was no large, if slightly dying, organic growth outside of _this_ structure, but instead stood a large, heavily armoured military vehicle. Hound slowed his approach considerably, uncertain as he was of the presence of any organics and what reactions his present form might invoke.

"Caboose, please keep Junior away from me." The voice that reached Hound's audios had a light lilt to it, and he found it pleasing. He drove up slowly behind a rock, extending his sensors out to get a better feel for the situation.

Three armoured organics stood on the far side of the vehicle, out of Hound's range of sight. One of them was significantly smaller than the other two, and also of an almost completely different genetic makeup.

"But Sheila, he just wants to crawl all over you and touch you and I don't think I'm going to let him do that anymore." Analyzing this new voice's patterns, Hound found that it started light and almost childish before dropping into something almost menacing.

"Dude, Caboose, Sheila! Look, Junior's not going hurt you, and it's not like he's intentionally feeling up your girlfriend." Ah, a third voice, and one that is not always tactful, judging from the low growling and threatening noises emanating from the group.

Finally, the fourth voice spoke up. "For Christ's sake, Tucker, just shut the fuck up already!" Thoroughly confused, Hound continued to creep closer, and would have kept creeping closer, had a fifth voice not stopped him in his tracks.

"You know, I've seen some pretty messed up things in this canyon, but this definitely takes the cake." Startled, Hound revved his engine and spun around to face a black-clad organic who was aiming a weapon at him. Silently impressed with the creature's stealth, the Autobot intercepted a tight-beam communication to the other organics.

_//Church, get your ass over here. We've got a situation.//_ Closing the communication line, the organic turned its attention back to the disguised jeep. "Now, listen up. I don't really give a fuck _what_ you are. We've done the alien thing once already, and if you're here to get anyone pregnant, Tucker's already done that once and still got the kid to prove it."

At that point the cobalt-armored organic appeared from the direction of the tank, and Hound realized that this was a contingency on which Prowl had never counted. It seemed that his only option was going to be to reveal himself and hope that these organic creatures could help him.

------

Church was surprised to get the transmission from Tex, and even more surprised to find her pointing her assault rifle at the Reds' jeep. "Hey, Tex, what's going on here?"

"Tucker hasn't been messing with your switch again, has he?" While normally such a comment would hold a tone of derision, the freelancer's voice was startlingly serious.

"Nah. After that last time with the possessed jeep, we haven't even been attempting anything down there. Why? You think we have another possessed jeep?" Church eyed the seemingly docile vehicle warily. Tex grunted.

"Maybe. It just showed up here, all on its own. And it reacted to me. Like, turned around when I spoke." With a sigh, Church pulled out his own pistol and aimed it at the jeep.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Of all of the responses Church was expecting, given their track record with these kinds of things, he never anticipated that the jeep would start whirring, clicking, and then stand over them.

Church barely heard Tucker's, "Holy fucking shit!" as he stared up into the face of a twenty-foot tall robot.

_TBC..._


	4. Proper Introductions

Well, kids, here goes the next part of TCTSNEH. Wrapping up the semester, I've got some more time to devote to writing than I did before!

* * *

"Holy fucking shit!" The exclamation caused Hound to divert his attention from the two organics directly in front of him. The other three organics and the heavily-armored vehicle had turned in his direction. Hound made a split-second decision; he knelt in front of the strange creatures.

"Bah weep grannah weep ninny bong," he said in a slow, measured voice, praying to Primus that maybe, just _maybe_ he could fix this whole situation.

"The fuck was _that_?" asked the cobalt-clad one in an incredulous voice. _'So much for that plan,'_ thought Hound, then he caught sight of the black-armored organic tilting its head to the side, as if studying him.

"Church, stand down," it said suddenly, and the one called Church turned to it in surprise.

"Tex, this thing might fucking kill all of us!" Tex shook its head.

"I don't think so. It used the 'universal greeting.' They taught us to use it whenever we wanted to be friendlies with new species...or in case the Covenant ever decided to leave us all the fuck alone."

"When the hell did they teach you that?"

"You fucktard, you sat next to me in class for that one!" Tex made as though to cuff Church on the back of the head, but then thought better of it. It turned to Hound, who had been watching the exchange with great interest. "Bah weep grannah weep ninny bong," it said in the direction of the kneeling mech.

A smile lit upon Hound's face and he nodded his head. Deciding to give communications an attempt, he said, "My designation is Hound."

"I'm Tex, this fucktard is Church, and behind us are Caboose, Tucker, Sheila, and Junior." Tex looked at hound for a moment more. "would you like to come into the base? It's all more relaxed in there, and we can get out of our armor."

Hound looked at the building nearby and nodded. "That would be appropriate."

_To be continued..._


End file.
